I travelled solo for the first time, and I’m totally converted.
What started with a rom-com meet cute, turned into me falling in love with myself.
Last week, I (Monica) travelled to Brecon Beacons in Wales for a solo retreat to nature. I’d never done any real travelling alone, except for work or a day trip somewhere. This time, I decided to drive 4 and a half hours away, into the depths of rural wales and remove myself from everything (and everyone) from my day-to-day.
So, yes I could have stayed at our cabin just outside of London. And while I LOVE it there, what I really needed a break from was our cabin, our business, anything that felt like work etc etc. So, I decided to stay at an Unyoked cabin.
I’ve stayed with Unyoked before, in Norfolk and I had the best time so I had no doubt that I would have a great time with them again. Plus their Wales location has spectacular views, so I knew that even if the weather was awful, I’d still have something to look out at.
I’m based in North London, I don’t own a car but I wanted to drive there so that I could take everything I needed (which included extra fire wood because it was -5 degrees and Unyoked charge for extra bags). I also wanted to stop somewhere on the way and make a day of it. I decided to stop at the Double Red Duke in the Cotswold for lunch and I am so glad that I did.
Brought my own bag of wood… niche, I know.
Eating lunch alone -
Ok, so even this first seemingly small thing was quite new to me. I’ve hardly ever sat on my own having lunch unless it was a cafe, or an outdoor restaurant abroad where I could just people watch. Here I was in a cosy and slightly boujee restaurant, surrounded by groups of people mostly in their 50s and 60s. The girls working knew I was alone so put me on a cute table in a big window next to the fire. Next to me, was a group of 60 something year old women catching up about their children, their husbands and latest love interests and how their many homes across the country were getting on. I’d left my book in the car so I actually spent most of my time eavesdropping on their conversation and marvelling at how their complaints about men seem very similar to those of my friends three decades younger.
Anyway, growing up with parents with a scarcity mindset (probably because they had 5 children) meant that indulgence in any form, but particularly in the amount of food ordered per person was actively discouraged. To be faced with a menu and order exactly what I wanted without fear of my father gawping at the bill, I felt liberated. Even the nagging voice of boyfriends gone by asking me ‘did I know how many calories were in that’ felt small and unimportant. Small steps, but freedom nonetheless.
Arriving at the cabin
So, for my long old drive I decided to listen to Ethel Cain’s Spotify playlist. It’s amazingly curated and showcases some top top vocals with similar sounds. Not only are the vocals incredible but so is the songwriting. Give it a listen.
The drive was pretty pleasant, I pulled into the local town to buy a bottle of wine before driving up to the cabin. The sun had set and it was now dark. I followed the sat nav up some very steep and winding country roads. Country roads are nothing new to me so I wasn’t particularly phased. I was just trying not to damage the car that I had hired from a local man down the road from me in London (via Turo). Anyway, the sat nav told me that I had 1 minute left on my drive before finding the cabin. As I was halfway up a hill, I saw a tractor ahead and stopped to figure out if it was coming down or going up, or turning - whatever. When it turned off the road, I started the car… only it wouldn’t move. I had warning lights flashing at me, and suddenly I realised. I was on ice.
Stuck, on my own, in the dark, on roads I didn’t know, in a hire car. ON ICE. Let’s just say that my usual cool demeanour really took a flustering. I started flashing the lights of the car, trying to get the person in the tractor to see me before they got too far away. That didn’t work. Quickly, I jumped out of the car and ran about 70 metres uphill, in the dark, on ice blindly following this tractor in the hopes that they were friendly and would help. They had turned off the road so I was running through a field trying to get their attention, waving and shouting. Finally, a dog that was trailing the tractor saw me and started barking. Before long a tall, cute farmer called Sam jumped out of his tractor and asked me what the hell was up. I explained and he explained right back that he didn’t have any tow ropes. Pulling me up the hill would be impossible. He could see the panic in my face, so he offered to help me reverse the car back to the bottom of the road, where I could take a different route to the cabin.
He offloaded a hay bale, and parked his tractor while I ran back to the car. It was only then that I realised how thick the ice was that I was on. I couldn’t believe I’d made it up as far as I had to be honest. He soon came and reversed my car down the hill. I tried to be more of a human being and less of a damsel in distress. As we got to the bottom of the hill, his brother, also a farmer, joined the road from another field. They both chuckle at the situation and I say my thank yous and goodbyes as quickly as I can manage. As someone that generally has her shit together, I found the panic that I had found myself in pretty embarrassing and I wanted to be alone again as quickly as possible.
Anyway, I go another route and arrive at the cabin without any more trouble. I put the fire on, heat up some hot water bottles and voicenote my friends to let them know about the farmers that saved me. They all thought it sounded like a meet cute, and the start of a rom-com vacation.
Settling in to the cabin
Arriving in the dark, freezing cold cabin my main objective was to get warm. It was -5 degrees outside, and -3 degrees inside. I had two hoodies, a hat and a scarf on. I had two hot water bottles under the duvet and the log burner on. It took a long time to feel even remotely comfortable and warm enough to make some dinner and then settle back into bed with my iPad and the newest season of Big Boys.
Unyoked had warned me that because of the low temperatures, the water pipes may well freeze overnight, and that I should fill up the kettle so that I could at least get my brew in the morning.
They were right. I woke up the next morning pretty cold, even in multiple layers, and the pipes had frozen. I boiled some water for a tea, and put the fire on. Despite the cold and the lack of water, I honestly couldn’t have been happier with my start to the day. Out of the window in front of me I watched the sky turn from black, to dusty pink, to blue. And I watched as the sun turned white, frost covered fields into a valley of green. I think I spent about two hours watching the light change - my mind totally present and connected to the changes brought about by the sun. The cabin even got a little warmer when the sunlight started filtering through the windows.
The beauty of being solo
Ok, so normally I’d have been worrying about what the other person or people I was with wanted to do that day. A chronic people pleaser, I would have been itching to make sure that they were having the trip that they wanted.
I would also sprinkle in my own suggestions, but if there was ever a conflict in wants, I would offer to sacrifice mine. But now, totally alone I felt peaceful when mapping out the plans for my day. Knowing that nothing I chose could affect anyone else.
I decided to meditate, have breakfast and then set off on a 12km hike up to the peak of Lord Hereford’s Knob (lol). Something to know about me, I’m not scared of hiking. I’ve done many hikes in faraway lands, at sunrise and sunset - but to be honest, these have been total tourist trails, in warm climates, easyish inclines and with buddies. This however, was my first solo hike, in minus temperatures, a ‘moderately difficult’ route and annoyingly in my Solomon trainers instead of my hiking boots. I packed a thermos full of tea, some water, a cereal bar and some gingerbread biscuits. It ran through my mind a couple of times ‘what would happen if I got stuck out there’. So, I also packed some extra layers and put my phone on low battery mode.
I’ll spare you all of the details of my hike, but it was hilly, icy, snowy, windy and sunny. I was using OS Maps to guide me along my route, and while I didn’t hugely love having my phone in my hand directing me, I can’t fault its usefulness. I saw miniature ponies, sheep, pigs & paragliders. Something I didn’t see - other hikers.
The hike was beautiful - stepping over frozen streams and then into a sunny patch that felt balmy. I was pretty aware of my solitude, in the best way. I usually would listen to music but I decided to go headphone free and be present. The thing that struck me the most was that I actually was present. Exploring a new place leaves you with a sense of wonder and curiosity about what's around the corner that you completely forget your day-to-day distractions and ruminations. The stress that I had been feeling for weeks was literally melting off of me with every step.
After about two hours of hiking I made it up to the peak, and the views were spectacular. I felt pretty proud of myself, smug even that this was how I had spent my Thursday afternoon, while everyone else was at work. I took more than a few pictures and videos on my hike - somewhat for instagram and somewhat for the mountain rescuers who were inevitably going to have to retrieve my frozen body after I made some kind of hiking faux pas. (This genuinely was a worry… ‘Londoner thinks she can hike’...’had previously got stuck on ice’...)
All joking aside, I couldn’t stay at the top for too long because it was actually freezing. The wind was coming at me in a way that it hadn’t been while I was climbing up the valley and I was cautious about getting back to the cabin in time to soak in the sunset. As I got to the far edge where I needed to descend, I saw my first hiker buddy! We waved to each other - they stopped to have a snack at the top, I started my journey down. Going down was actually quite tricky. The paths were only the width of a person’s foot, and they were deep and icy. Needless to say I pretty quickly fell over - embarrassment and headlines flashing to mind. I wasn’t hurt so I quickly but c a r e f u l l y scurried off out of view of the other hiker (who had poles with them, how clever).
I got back to the cabin just as the late afternoon sun started turning to sunset. I popped the fire on straight away to try and make sure the cabin would be warmer that night to sleep in. I still didn’t have any running water, so I got a cool beer from the fridge instead. I changed into comfy clothes, put on some music and settled into the bed to watch the sky change colour again.
Occupying space
I had the most amazing evening in the cabin, fuelled by a little beer, wine and natural supplements, I was able to transcend into a different realm. I felt peaceful and calm, sleepy but present. As the sky got darker and the cabin got warmer, I felt more restless. The cabin literally turned into a sauna, and my thermal layers were quick to be removed. I found myself dancing in the cabin & staring at the sky in nothing but my pants. Free and unburdened of clothes, watchful eyes and people pleasing tendencies, I felt truly liberated. Something that struck me was how I chose to occupy space. When travelling with others, it’s likely that one of us would have been on one side of the bed, the other on the other side, mindful not to be too disruptive to the other persons personal space and making sure that they were having a good time. But with nobody else there, I rolled around on the bed, shifted and changed my position so that I could look at something new out of the window. I got up and twirled around the cabin & even ran outside for a cold hit of air when the cabin became too hot. I stopped trying to be perfect. I did whatever I wanted, made a mess, danced nude, hugged myself, appreciated my body for moving me step by step into the unknown.
I feel like I’d had a spiritual moment. The connection that I felt to nature that day was immense. From darkness to darkness I had witnessed the best that this January day had to offer. Cotton candy pink sunrise, to ice lolly yellow sunset. I saw the animals wake up and go to sleep. I saw the stars get brighter in the sky over the evening, and I saw the moon swim across the sky. Finally, I settled into a quiet peacefulness, lying on the bed, under the glow of the moon. Only that morning on the tube had I read about Kate Moss’ 50th birthday party, and how she had celebrated spiritually with friends at a wellness resort. One thing she seems to advocate for is ‘moonbathing’. Here I was, being the most Kate Moss I’d ever been (note, I am nothing like Kate Moss), moonbathing for the first time. I felt incredibly grounded, grateful and proud.
Self love
This trip allowed me to really experience something that I’ve truly only dabbled with from time to time. Self love and pride in who I am and what I’m doing. I reflected on where I was personally and professionally, and genuinely came to the realisation that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. And, that I’m happy to be here. Stripping away the negative thoughts that normally reside in my mind, that are informed by societal pressures, the patriarchy and toxic people that are no longer in my life - it dawned on me that the inner work that I’ve been doing for years now had f i n a l l y left me comfortable in my own skin. It only took 30 years, but I can truly say that I feel like I’m living authentically. I’ve stopped letting fear and validation guide my decisions, and I’ve stopped trying to please people. I came away from this trip really in love with myself, and a total convert to solo travel.
Written by Monica Innes, Co-Founder of Re Cabins - Tues 23rd Jan 2024
